


There Will Be Blood

by SaenaLife



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean x Reader, F/M, Gen, Lots of it, Lots of that too, choose your own supernatural adventure, cyosa, cyosanov16, just a little of that, no smut to speak of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 21:54:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8864278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaenaLife/pseuds/SaenaLife
Summary: Sam has been kidnapped by vampires and they want you to come alone to get him back. You decide bringing Dean as backup makes more sense.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of the November '16 Choose Your Own Supernatural Adventure writing (CYOSANov16) challenge organized by the amazing @littlegreenplasticsoldier on tumblr. This fic represents the fourth and final chapter in a story where the first three were written by other people, but I think it can stand on its own. You can also read the other chapters on Tumblr. (The links below won't automatically open in new tabs.)

[Part One](http://littlegreenplasticsoldier.tumblr.com/post/152591935987/choose-your-own-supernatural-adventure-nov16-part) by @littlegreenplasticsoldier

[Part Two](http://kayteonline.tumblr.com/post/153449728250/cyosa-nov16-heres-the-thing) by @kayteonline

[Part Three](https://kittenofdoomage.tumblr.com/post/154085472162/cyosa-nov-16-part-3-closure) by @kittenofdoomage

********

“Jesus H. Christ! Could you dress any slower?!” you hollered toward the bathroom from where you stood at the front door, coat on and keys rattling in your hand. He'd been gone less than a minute, but you were already irritated at the delay. This was why you preferred working solo. Loads of hard experience had taught you that 1) if you want something done right, don't trust anyone else to do it; and 2) every additional person on the hunt multiplies the amount of waiting-the-fuck-around by a magnitude of ten, at least.

“Hold yer fuckin' horses!” The distinctive jangle of a belt buckle in motion floated through the partly open door and the memory of undressing him last night rose to the surface, which of course led your brain directly to what you'd been doing not ten minutes ago in the shower.

Hunting is a job that demands ridiculous amounts of adaptability, not just in the physical things, but mentally and emotionally, too. You have to be able to compartmentalize, focus exclusively on the task at hand. If you can't do that, you're dead, sooner or later. Probably sooner.

You took pride in your ability to make split-second decisions, to change tactics in the blink of an eye, to never let anything distract you from the job at hand. So when Dean walked out of the bathroom, head bent slightly as he threaded the leather end of his belt through the buckle and pulled it snug, you took it as a personal betrayal by your body and, most especially, your mind that you forgot about Sam entirely. The only thought in your head was an unbearably detailed image of your hands unbuckling that belt again, _right the fuck now_.

It only lasted a heartbeat, not even long enough for Dean to notice, but the lapse infuriated you. This guy was bad for your equilibrium and you couldn't resist taking it out on him a little.

“About fucking time! Let's go!”

Your words were sharp, as if they'd been cut out with tin snips, and he glanced at you in surprise. “You know he's _my_ brother, right?” He snagged his jacket as he followed you out the door. “Why are you so worked up about it?”

You didn't answer, just headed to your car and unlocked the driver's side door. Swinging it open, you were greeted with a familiar creak and it made you smile, just a little. You didn't need a partner. You had Mo.

As you swiveled to get in, you realized that Dean hadn't followed you. In fact, he was standing three spaces away, beside his own car, looking at you quizzically.

“Dude, we're taking my car,” you said, staring at him. The “ _obviously”_ went unspoken, but was clearly implied.

“Why do you get to drive?” He practically pouted and even across the yards of asphalt, you had to force yourself not to stare at his bottom lip. _Dammit_ , you thought to yourself, annoyed all over again at his distracting sex appeal.

“I'm the one they want, remember? Alone.”

“Oh yeah. Right.” He had the decency to look a little sheepish. “Let me just grab a couple of things.” He moved to the trunk, quickly opening it and shoving stuff into a duffel bag.

Impatient, you gritted your teeth. “I _have_ machetes! What else do you need?”

Dean just grinned as he trotted in your direction. Sliding into your seat, you reached over to pull the lock and let him in. Glancing at him as you backed the car out of its space, you could see that his grin had faded, leaving a set jaw and a worried crease between his brows. Time to make a plan.

“I figure I'll drop you about a quarter mile out and you can reconnoiter on foot from there.”

“Reconnoiter, huh?” There was a tiny bit of a mocking edge to his voice, as if he'd never used a four-syllable word in his life.

“Yes, reconnoiter,” you confirmed, going on to explain with exaggerated patience, “it means check out the lay of the land. And for shit's sake, be quiet about it.”

“I know what it means!”

“Good, because I'm counting on you to handle the guards outside once I go in the front. Then you can find Sam while I'm dealing with Daniel and Nayan.”

“Wow, who died and made you boss?”

“Fuck, Dean, are you gonna argue with everything I say? You know it's a solid plan, or you _would_ know if you'd stop being such a man for five seconds. Try thinking with your brain instead of your ego!”

“Now wait just a damn minute!”

********

By the time you dropped Dean at the side of the road, the bickering had tapered off enough for Dean to admit that your plan had merit and for you to agree to modify certain elements according to his suggestions. It was dangerous as all fuck, but what wasn't in this job?

The voice on the phone had given Dean an address that led you well out of town, to where it was mostly farmland and houses with lights on were few and far between. The GPS directed you down a private lane, not far past where Dean had taken his duffel bag from the back seat and disappeared into the shadows just outside the reach of your headlights. He'd scoffed at the modern convenience in a classic car, but you noticed he didn't mind knowing just where the target was, even if the info came from a dreaded digital doo-hickey. Once he was gone, you took a minute to weapon up and settle into your battle mindset before continuing.

Late summer corn towered over your beloved Camero, blocking all but a strip of star-strewn sky as you cruised slowly down the road, giving Dean time to cover the distance. There were lights in a clearing ahead and what you assumed (correctly, as it turned out) would be a house.

It was large and ostentatious; an obvious remodel, a Glamour Shots makeover that almost, but not quite, obliterated the simple country farmhouse that it had once been. Of _course_ ancient and powerful vampires would live in the lap of luxury and bad taste. How else would the minions know who was in charge?

You rolled up and parked, checking your gear over one more time before climbing out of the car. There weren't any guards visible, but the itchy feeling under your skin told you they were there, watching. You sincerely hoped they were so focused on you that they never saw Dean's machete coming. Climbing the steps to the wide porch, you pulled your own blades from the sheaths hanging at each hip, slipping the thongs over your wrists and flexing your fingers around the familiar grips.

Adrenaline made everything sharp, expectant. Your muscles were loose and warm, the aches and pains from earlier disappearing in the heat of anticipation. The oxygen streaming into your lungs felt like power and strength, filling you up, and you knew you had to watch that overconfidence. On the other hand, you also knew that the only way to survive this encounter was to show no fear. It was a fine line that you had to walk, and had done so many times. This would be no different.

Raising one weaponed fist, you pounded on the door with the hilt. It swung open immediately, revealing a startlingly thin man, all wires and ratchets under pasty skin. He brushed greasy hair out of his eyes, the better to glare his hatred and fear in your direction, before silently backing away to allow you entry.

A voice spoke from inside. “Welcome! We've been waiting for you.”

Keeping half an eye on the grim doorman, plus a good six feet of distance, you scoped the room. Two more underlings, crouched and fierce, stood on the other side of the wide foyer (marble? really?) at the base of an inappropriately grand staircase. Above them on the stairs, gazing down at you with nearly identical looks of covetous hunger, were two more vampires. The air of power that surrounded these two was palpable. It was almost certainly one of them who had spoken as you entered.

Sidling to your left, keeping your back to the wall, you moved so that all five of them were in your direct line of sight. You took one last visual sweep of the terrain, noting pitfalls, potential weapons, and exit points, before raising your eyes to your prey.

“Where's Sam?”

“Is that his name? He wouldn't tell us.”  The man on the left spoke with an amused disinterest that nearly disguised the suppressed excitement you detected in his stance.

“Where is he?!”

“Calm down, my dear.” He waved a languid hand at you. “Your large friend is alive and well.”

“Is he still human?”

“Ugh, you say that like it's a good thing. But yes, he's completely unharmed.” He smiled with an evil glint and a sidelong glance at the vamp next to him, hoping to share the joke. “Well, not _completely_ , but close enough.” Though he and his silent partner were eerily similar, something told you the speaker was the younger of the two. Thinking over what you knew, you decided he must be Daniel, which meant the impassive one he was so keen to impress had to be Nayan.

“I want to see him,” you demanded with a scowl. As the words left your mouth, a flicker of movement through an archway just to the right of the stairs caught your eye.

“Of course you do. And you shall. But first, as with all champions seeking to rescue the maiden, you must pass a test of battle.”

While he was talking, a quick glance through the arch told you it was a sitting room with large windows facing the porch. You were just in time to see a spray of red fluid dance across the outside of the glass, accompanied by a muted thunk that was mostly drowned out by the pompous voice droning over your head.

You spit your reply out angrily, hoping to keep their attention on you and not on Dean's outdoor activities. “Are you guys for real? What the fuck are you talking about?”

At a subtle signal, the flick of a fingertip, the other vamps began to move toward you, circling like sharks before a frenzy.

“If you can defeat these three, we'll take you to Sam. Of course, if they defeat you, Sam will be your first human meal, so I suppose you'll see him then, too. Happy coincidence, you'll get your wish no matter what.”

They moved in, more cautiously than you expected - Skeletor on your right; a burly, angry-looking man circling around to your left; and a quietly menacing woman biding her time, slowly approaching you from the front.

The big guy feinted at you, trying to draw your attention away while his buddy moved up on your other side. You let them think it worked, shifting to keep your shoulders squared up to the more obvious threat, but keeping the rest of your awareness focused on the movement over your right shoulder.

He feinted again, not even bothering to get close enough to lay a hand on you, and in that split second, you knew where the attack would come from. At the slight squeak of shoes on marble, you spun to the right, lashing out at the smaller man as you went, the curving arc of your swing followed the next instant by a matching arc of blood as your blade lopped off one arm at the elbow. Not as good as his head, but worthwhile all the same.

His agonized howl of rage echoed through the room while you continued your pirouette, using that impetus to draw the well-honed edge of your curved machete across the larger man's chest as he rushed you. By the feel of it, the blade bit deep and he fell back a step or two. Before you could react, a hand latched onto the back of your jacket, hauling you around and pushing you toward the only uninjured minion left.

Your initial evaluation had pegged her as the most dangerous of the three and you knew if she got you in her clutches, your chance of surviving dropped sharply. Instead of resisting the momentum of being shoved, you went with it, throwing yourself at the female vamp. The second you hit her, you dropped your body to the floor, entangling her arms in the dead weight, pulling her down with you, and then rolling to your back to pitch her over your head.

By the time you scrambled to your feet, they had regrouped on the far side of the room. There was silence for a moment, broken only by harsh breaths and the drip of blood. You glanced up at the two on the stairs. Judging from their rapt faces, it seemed unlikely they would be stepping into this fight, however it went for their underlings.

Cradling his maimed arm close to his chest, the injured vamp glared at you. “I'm not gonna stop with your blood, bitch! I'm gonna chew the flesh from your bones!”

“You think so?” Your tone was flippant, with a grin to match. “Won't grow your hand back though, will it?”

Shouting furiously, he rushed you. Sensing the other two closing in, you charged to meet him, intent on bettering your odds in this fight. You reached your target before he could react to your unexpected approach, driving your foot into the pit of his stomach and taking off his head with a graceless chop as he bent over in pain.

There was no time to savor the small victory. You spun away, both blades outstretched to ward off the incoming hostiles. Incredibly, you made contact with one of them in your wild retreat and heard a sharp, gasping exhale in the second before you came to a stop, dropping into a defensive stance as you turned to face them.

You weren't quite fast enough. The woman was right on top of you, murder in her eyes and throat open in a ragged gash that still pulsed gouts of blood. Before you could raise a blade, she struck out with a powerful blow to your solar plexus, sending you stumbling backward to fall on your ass, trying to force air into your lungs.

Movement in your peripheral vision made you realize you'd fallen practically at the feet of the largest monster. Not only that, but he was drawing back his leg to deliver a kick to your head that would surely kill you. Bathed in a clammy sweat, still struggling to get your lungs working, you swung your machete in a shearing strike powered with desperation, slicing through the knee of the leg he stood on.

He toppled over with a bellow, bright arterial blood spraying out to soak your clothes. You scrambled to your knees, twisting to hack at his neck. The angle was bad, so it took you two tries to get the job done and you winced at the sound of steel clanging into marble.

With a frenzied roar that came through her severed vocal cords as a wheezing gurgle, the last of your opponents surged toward you. The floor was a gory mess by this time and fresh blood on marble offers very little in the way of friction, so you didn't even bother trying to stand to meet her attack. You knew falling one more time would probably be fatal; therefore, _she_ had to be the one to fall.

Still on your knees, you braced your feet against the heavy body behind you. Knowing that she was prepared for you to attack with the machetes, expecting it, you let them go to swing from your wrists as you reached for her. The change in tactics was just enough for you to get your fists into the front of her shirt, redirecting her momentum downward so that her skull smacked into the marble with a sickening thud. Never one to take chances, you pulled her back and slammed her head against the floor again, leaving her dazed and bloody. It only took a second or two for her eyes to clear, just in time to widen at the sight of your descending blade.

Dignified clapping sounded through the room. Shaking out the sting in your arm from the impact against the stone floor, you climbed to your feet and looked up to see Daniel beaming at you. He turned to Nayan. “Didn't I tell you, Nayan?” His voice dripped with smug satisfaction. “She's perfect for us!”

“Well, she's certainly wearing our colors,” Nayan commented drily, with a wave at your blood drenched clothes. “And she certainly couldn't be any worse than that useless Nate. What a disappointment he was.”

“I _told_ you I was sorry about that!” The petulant whine in Daniel's voice grated on your nerves. “He had such promise as nest leader. How was I to know he'd become obsessed over this one,” floating a hand in your direction, “or that he would be so terrible at choosing which to turn and which to kill?”

“Always the weakest candidates with that one. Maddening!” Nayan agreed, then turned to peer down at you where you stood, unwilling to approach them while they had the higher ground. “It's no wonder his little beginner nest fell to her so easily. She might actually be worth all the time he wasted.”

“Exactly!” Daniel was excited again. “Once I saw her, I understood why Nate couldn't focus properly on anything else.” His eyes fairly glowed as he examined you. “She's already a killing machine. Imagine her once she becomes our protege.” He began to glide slowly down the stairs as he spoke, Nayan following a fraction behind.

The lethal grace of their movement sent a chill through you. It spoke of centuries of stalking and killing prey without mercy, of an ancient and relentless thirst for human life. Instinctively, you stepped back, foot slipping in the blood just a bit as you shifted your weight.

With preternatural speed, they were on you before you'd regained your balance. So much stronger and faster than the others you had faced, there was nothing you could do to stop them. Daniel appeared behind you, wrenching your elbows back while Nayan reached for your machetes, yanking them from your grip so hard the thongs broke. Dropping them to the ground behind him, his lip curled in contempt.

“That should have been more difficult. You'll improve once you're one of us.”

Kicking and twisting, you tried without noticeable success to break free from Daniel's grip. He hauled you up against him, one arm squeezing painfully around your ribs, pinning your elbow to your side. Pressing his other arm hard against your windpipe, he cut off your oxygen supply until you had no choice but to settle.

As you quieted, muted scuffles and thunks could be heard coming from upstairs. Daniel jerked you around to face the staircase. “What's that?” he demanded, voice rising absurdly high in his startlement.

Seemingly unflappable, Nayan circled around to stand in front of you again. “I'm sure she brought the other one to assist in the rescue.”

“Should we do something?”

“Don't be absurd. There are five of our best up there, against two of them. They'll handle it.” He put a hand to your cheek in a gesture that would have been fond from a human; here, it curdled your stomach. “You and I have much more important things to deal with at present.”

You watched in horror as Nayan raised one of his own wrists to his mouth, baring his sawtooth grimace for a second before slashing at the tender skin. Time seemed to slow down, the fumbling of your free hand inside the long sleeve of your jacket unnaturally slow and clumsy while the blood swelled and pooled on his outstretched arm, drips landing on your chest as he brought it closer to your mouth. You flung your head back, the few seconds of extra time well worth the lightning-crack of pain as the back of your skull connected hard with Daniel's forehead.

Finally, the syringe fell into your hand and you deftly jammed it into Nayan's approaching arm. As he convulsed and fell with a harsh cry, you jerked it free and stabbed it back into Daniel's thigh, pressing the plunger down the rest of the way. His hold on you loosened and you rammed an elbow into his ribs, flinging yourself away and over the other vamp's twitching form. Snatching up your machetes, you wasted no time in bringing one down and through Nayan's neck.

Straightening, you looked over to where Daniel lay, barely conscious. Stepping toward him, you paused at the sound of footsteps charging toward the top of the stairs. Dean burst out onto the landing, followed closely by a beat-up looking Sam. They skidded to a halt at the railing, staring down at the blood-soaked scene below.

Giddy with victory and survival, you grinned up at them. “Took you long enough,” you chuckled, casually swinging your blade one last time and taking off Daniel's head.

*********

Dean looked you up and down, quirking an incredulous eyebrow at the sheer volume of blood that covered you.

“You look like Sissy Spacek in _Carrie_.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the staircase. “There's an awesome bathroom upstairs in the master suite. You should go try out the shower. Me and Sam got the rest of this.”

“No way! I pull my own weight.”

He glanced significantly around the room, where there was more blood visible than marble. “Yeah, pretty sure you've got that covered.” Dean grinned, eyes dancing. “Besides, I know you aren't getting into your precious car like that!”

“Good point.” With a nod of thanks, you made a beeline for the master bathroom, leaving bloody footprints halfway up the stairs and your temporary partners to do the clean-up.

The shower was hot and luxurious, with a gorgeous smelling shampoo that no one else would be using. You hummed to yourself, thinking of Sam and Dean collecting the various bodies from outdoors and turning the house into a tinderbox, while you relaxed and got clean. Maybe working with someone else wasn't always the worst thing ever.

Your clothes were a total loss, destined to join the pyre of bodies in the foyer. Ready to get the hell out of there, you quickly rummaged through the closets until you found something serviceable to wear that would at least cover your assets, then made your way downstairs.

The brothers were just finishing laying down a trail of kerosene around the lower floor, from a five gallon can they'd found in the thoroughly modern barn. The fumes mixed with the coppery smell of blood and you headed straight for the front door, stomach heaving a little. Dean followed you out onto the porch while Sam went to make sure the upstairs went up in flames, too.

The fresh air was wonderful and you drank it in before turning to Dean, holding out a couple of tube-like containers with velcro strips attached. “Thanks for these. I'm glad you insisted I take them. I don't usually use dead man's blood, but they were perfect for this.”

Brows raised a little in surprise, Dean took the gadgets from you. “Just something I've been tinkering with lately. This was the first field test, so I'm glad they worked.”

“It was a little sticky, took a minute to get it to drop, but I'd rather that than have the syringe fall out at the wrong time. By the way, I only used one. The other syringe is still full.”

“Got it.”

“Maybe you could make me a set of my own at some point.”

Not waiting for an answer, you plonked yourself down on the steps, kicking out your legs and leaning back on your hands. With a deep breath, you stared up at the stars, enjoying the way the night breeze sifted through your hair. When Dean sat down next to you, close enough for your arms to press against each other, you didn't look at him, but could see in your peripheral vision that he was looking at you. The two of you sat in companionable silence for a minute.

“You seem different.”

That brought your eyes to his. “In a bad way?”

“No.” Shaking his head slowly, Dean studied you. “You just seem more relaxed.”

Smiling widely, you looked out into the night. “Life is good. I just took down the vamps I've been chasing for a year. And even though the real Nate died a long time ago, now at least I know that fucking thing isn't wearing his body to kill people. On top of all that, as of this moment, I am off duty, taking an honest-to-god vacation.” Looking back at him, you sat up. “And as an unexpected bonus,” turning, you tilted under his arm to snuggle into his chest, “I met this really great guy who turned out to be way less incompetent than I first thought.”

“Hey!” Though he tried to sound indignant, you could hear the laughter in his voice, his arm sliding around your waist to pull you closer. “You're just as much of a hardass as I first thought.” You chuckled, unoffended. His voice dropped deeper as his hand stroked down your side. “But you're even _more_ of a badass, and let me tell you honey, that is hot as all fuck.”

You shivered under his touch, dragging a hand around his waist to pull yourself impossibly closer. “Oh yeah?” Raising up  slightly, you pressed a kiss to the tan skin of his throat.

“Two fuckin’ machetes?” He groaned. “Shit, I wish I'd seen that fight!” When he pulled at your knee, encouraging you to straddle him, you didn't hesitate and the feel of him against your core made you gasp.

Grinding down a little, you whispered low in his ear, “You know, there are other things that I'm just as good at. Come back to my motel tonight and I'll show you a few of them.”

Dean didn't even answer, just took your face in his hands and kissed you with all the adrenaline of a successful hunt. You met him at every turn, as hungry for him as he was for you.

The sound of throat clearing startled you and you both looked up to see Sam standing in the doorway, matches in hand. From his expression, it might not have been his first attempt at getting your attention, but you didn't feel guilty at all, didn't even blush. You weren't going to let anything ruin your mood tonight.

Climbing off of Dean's lap, you beamed up at his brother. “Hey Sam! All set?”

“Yeah.” He held out the book of matches. “You want to do the honors?”

“I would love to, thanks.” Striking one, you let the flames engulf nearly the whole book before dropping it into a puddle of fuel just inside the door. It went up with a whoosh, runners of fire racing across the floor, sending up clouds of foul black smoke where they crossed the streams of blood.

Turning away as the fire began to rage, you hopped down the steps, leading the way to your car. The three of you climbed in and moments later, the house was out of sight, nothing but a dim glow over the tops of the corn rows.

“Alright! I need to stop and change my clothes, but then who wants to go get a drink? I feel like celebrating!”

With an enthusiastic yes from Sam and a look from Dean that made heat pool in your belly, you flipped on the radio, rolled down the window, and barreled off into the night.

********


End file.
